


When the Wedding Bells Toll

by meirencollector



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Everyone Thinks They're Together, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Just Friends, Wedding Fairs, Wedding Planning, two very good friends in a wedding fair just because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27080926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meirencollector/pseuds/meirencollector
Summary: It takes two entire slices of cheesecake for Marinette to realize that faking a relationship to get free food at a wedding fair was definitely a terrible idea.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 30
Kudos: 436





	When the Wedding Bells Toll

There’s a large crowd all over, people moving in different directions. She sees a mix of joyful and exasperated faces, chatter between vendors and clients, old friends catching up, new friends made. Everyone's moving, yet unlike the rough motion of pebbles jostled in a jar, the crowd instead flows like a string of pearls brushing smoothly past one another, friends staying together with fingers entwined. Mesmerizing as it is, all Marinette thinks is that being here is _definitely_ a bad idea.

She's at a wedding fair, of all places, with the last person she expects to be with. Not that she's never thought of it, of course. But through the years they've known each other, she's finally convinced herself that they're just very good friends, close enough to wander together along the streets, foolish enough to pose as a couple for some free sweets.

If anything, she knows better than anyone that hidden identities and secrets are bound to be revealed. Scratch that, _both_ of them know better than anyone that's how it eventually goes.

But right now, they’re munching on really delicious cupcakes, and Marinette thinks perhaps this isn’t so bad after all. They’re actually on the sixth, no, _eighth_ booth that they’ve taken a free sample from, and some time between the second slice of cheesecake and the bridal gown expo she realized that there really is extra space in your stomach for dessert.

The caterer’s sales pitch is drowned out by her busily shoving macarons into her purse, and Adrien covers for her by putting on a show of checking things off from the wedding pamphlet they obviously did not need.

“Darling, how about this photographer?” he asks.

_Darling?_

“I… uh—”

“I know we already asked Alya, but do you think we might be needing another one for the reception?” Adrien presses further, arching an eyebrow.

“I… I guess?” she manages to utter out, not knowing what to say.

Adrien scribbles something on the paper, nodding enthusiastically, and the photographer's eyes gleam in excitement. She has to admit, having a friend who's pretty good at acting does have its perks after all. Because if she didn’t know any better, she’d also be pretty convinced that this was not at all just a guise to get free food. 

Marinette feels a little tug in her gut telling her they shouldn’t be pretending to be something they’re not, but it’s not like they actually planned on going in anyway — a random sales agent just assumed they were a couple, pushed a pamphlet into their hands, and shoved them through the door before they even figured out what was going on. And well, they were both pretty hungry.

So she continues munching on her sweet tart, wading through the crowd, taken in by the unlimited freedom she has to frequent the chocolate fountains and smother pretty much everything in fondue. She’s not really getting married, so she eats up with the shameless excuse that she’s not likely going to see any of these vendors anytime soon.

So far, Marinette's been pleasantly surprised by the unexpected range of businesses available as they’ve hopped from one stall to another. Aside from the usual bridal gowns and tux fittings, they’ve been able to do tests on memory foam mattresses, choke down spinach shots for the novelty, and plan out a very elaborate honeymoon on an island who knows where. There's even one advertising lip injections and ginger supplements that would apparently ‘boost bed performance’ or something of the sort, but she didn’t get a close enough look before Adrien quickly pulls her away, muttering things like ‘that’s ridiculous’ and ‘there’s no need for that’ as the booth vanishes from her sight.

At some point they find themselves joining random giveaways and signing up for quick raffles — Marinette’s already on her fourth prize while Adrien still has none — and they’re now sipping from their complimentary flutes of champagne and wine.

But Marinette thinks their fun charade might be cut short all too soon when they run into Wayhem, an old friend of Adrien's who she’d met a few more times from college parties long before.

“Hey!” he calls out, and the passionfruit macaron that she’s holding halts its trajectory toward Adrien’s mouth. “It’s been a while,” he says, running up to the wide-eyed duo. “How have you guys been?”

In a fit of nerves, Marinette shoves the macaron into Adrien’s mouth. “Wayhem! It’s so nice to see you,” she chimes back, plastering on a smile as if everything’s fine, while the boy beside her is busy coughing up a lung, little green puffs blowing out as he wheezes. Marinette makes a mental note to make him her own macarons later as penance.

But in seconds, Adrien gathers himself, flashing the unexpected company a celebrity-like grin. “Wayhem,” he greets through his teeth, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Unable to read the room, Wayhem merely shrugs, just excited to see familiar faces. “Got a side gig,” he explains, handing out a card saying:

“Wayhem the Party Planner for Your Partying Needs,  
Party Crashers Take Heed!  
100% Guaranteed Your Party Will Succeed!”

He chuckles, as he watches the two read in amusement. “Starting out as an event planner these days. It’s not as fancy compared to the jobs you guys have, but it helps pay the bills.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing well,” Adrien replies, this time with a more genuine smile, as he pushes the business card into his chest pocket. “And you look great.”

Wayhem beams at his gesture as he mutters a word of thanks, and Marinette thinks she can finally breathe, when he suddenly nods towards the button pins on their shirts. “So, 2021, huh?”

“We chose to draw out the engagement a bit longer,” Adrien quickly supplies.

The party planner lets out a low whistle. “Well, that took much longer than expected,” he scoffs. “Honestly, we all thought you two would get married straight out of graduation.”

Marinette feels the air taken out of her lungs. _The what straight out of what now?_ She has to get some things straightened out. “What do you mean ‘all’?”

Wayhem chuckles. “You know,” he pats his pockets, “We had bets and everything. The Lahliffe’s put down some big money on it. Kubdel placed hers saying that it’s going to be after you guys get your first kid.” He tuts. “...Should’ve bet on something realistic, I went around saying you two wouldn’t even wait until your fourth year.” 

Marinette takes a step back, feeling a little woozy. _Must be the wine,_ she thinks. 

But Adrien simply nods, taking it in stride. “We wanted to focus on our careers first, before taking such a big step.” 

Wayhem puts a hand to his chin, pondering it seriously. Marinette thinks she’s becoming more delirious by the minute. “Makes sense. Getting a stable lifestyle, steady income and all that. Check out all the things before settling down and starting a family. Maybe even get a dog in tow,” he muses. “Sounds a lot, but you guys seem perfect for that resume.” 

Adrien laughs. “It’s three kids, and probably not a dog.” He looks to his side to meet her eyes, and holds her hand. “A hamster, most likely.” 

Marinette would’ve probably melted on the spot out of sheer embarrassment and confusion, but thankfully another couple calls out Wayhem’s attention, to which Adrien takes the opportunity to say “It was great seeing you!” as they smoothly move away, blending into the crowd of chattering bridesmaids gossiping over which flower would be the best for their corsages and boutonnieres. 

“See you soon!” Wayhem shouts from afar, mouthing ‘Call me!’ as they run out of sight. 

Marinette pants a little. “Phew. That was close.” 

Adrien chuckles, clutching her hand tighter. “That wasn’t so bad.” She raises an eyebrow, and Adrien stops laughing. “What?” 

“He almost blew our cover!” 

Adrien laughs again, pulling his hand forward, leading her into the next stall, and probably doing another round back to her beloved chocolate fountains. Marinette would too just laugh off her concerns, if she wasn’t caught up in how their fingers fit perfectly together. 

Marintte thinks Adrien simply _can’t_ be fully aware of just what happened, of how apparently their friends had placed bets on them getting together, or how all the people in this entire place are pretty convinced that two of them are actually getting married. 

They breeze past André who apparently has his own stand in the venue as well, handing them out their usual, a quadruple decker of strawberry-blueberry-peach-mint ice cream that makes some people stare. It’s a weird combination alright, but it still tastes delicious every time they take a bite. 

The people in the line behind them seem startled at how André seems to have their order ready almost before they even place it, and their surprise clues Marinette in to the fact that they’ve been regulars at his stall long enough for him to instantly remember their ‘usual.’ As she looks down at the tower of ice cream and wonders when they started getting all their flavors in a single cone, her eyes tunnels to look at her hand clasped in Adrien’s, the matching rings on their fingers flush against each other. 

It had been some sort of fun gesture, a spur of the moment decision that they might as well get something to commemorate their long-time friendship. Months ago, when Adrien had casually placed the velvet-lined box into her hands during breakfast back at their apartment, Marinette had laughed at the gesture until Adrien had finally cajoled her on letting him slip the ring on her finger and doing the same for him. 

It suddenly occurs to her that he’s never taken it off since. And neither has she. 

“Adrien,” Marinette whispers, pulling him back to stop in his tracks, right in the middle of a mini garden of rose bouquets. The crowd’s thinning around them, drawing closer to the center stage of an interactive wedding reception show nearby. 

“Huh?” Adrien looks back at her, wondering what made them stop. “Oh, we passed by the fondue stall you liked. Do you want to go back?” he asks, tilting his head in concern. 

He’s still holding her hand. 

It’s not like they’d never held hands before, Marinette reminds herself. They’re quite affectionate, even for very good friends — there’s the mandatory cuddles during movie nights, the regular back hugs when she’s busy cooking, the out-of-the-blue cheek kisses for random moments, the comfy snuggles when one of them couldn’t sleep at night — those kind of things she would simply brush off, because it's probably what all very good friends do. 

_Right?_

Marinette looks at Adrien under the sheer golden draperies hanging from the overhead lighting decor. The other side of the room buzzes with excited chatter, and there’s a smattering of applause spreading across the space. Marinette figures the actors for the bride and groom have entered, as chairs scrape when the crowd stands up to watch the couple make their way to the head table. But despite the noise her eyes are still on him, the electric candles bouncing off light against her gaze. There’s the sound of cheers and whoops, the sound of teaspoons rapping enthusiastically on the sides of wine glasses, the sound of someone predictably breaking a glass, but it might as well have been non-existent. Marinette just stares. 

Adrien’s playful grin fades, and he comes closer, “Marinette?” he asks. “What’s wrong?” 

“Are we married?” Marinette blurts out. Her hand quickly flies to her mouth, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. 

He breathes out a sigh and laughs. “No, we’re engaged, remember?” he smiles indulgently, as if expecting her to go along. “Let’s keep up, Mari.” 

“No, I—” Marinette pauses, not knowing how to say it. She looks down at their intertwined hands. She lifts them up, reaching with her thumb to slowly twist the ring on his index finger. She stares back into Adrien’s eyes and whispers, “Are we _married?”_

Adrien stills, and the mirth drains out of his face. "We're not?" He pauses, questioning. She doesn't know if he's asking her or himself. _"Are we?"_

She couldn't believe her ears. "You can't answer my question with your own," she points out. "And I thought you just saw me as your very good friend," she mutters, looking away, her gaze falling to the yellow roses wilting by the corner. 

Adrien blinks. "But we are very good friends. You're my best friend," he states with conviction. 

For a second, Marinette almost agrees with him. But she remembers how they got here. "Do you think very good friends do things like we do?" 

He tilts his head. "Like what?" 

"Like the stuff we do back home, or things we do here," she explains. "Things like going to wedding fairs like a couple, wearing matching rings," she squeezes his hand in hers, "Holding hands like this? 

Now it's his turn to blush, cheeks flaring rose red. He falters, "I-I don't know." 

Marinette loosens her grip, thinking she must have misunderstood, when suddenly Adrien squeezes her hand right back. 

"But I know one thing," he brushes his thumb over hers, "this is a hand I'd like to hold for the rest of my life." 

The white noise of it all surrounds her. In her mind's eye, this room buzzes with excited chatter from their friends, and there's kids running between the tables in a good-natured game of tag. They enter, and a smattering of applause fills the room. Then they find their way to the head table, smiling and holding hands, just like how they're doing now. They sit in front of a bouquet of miniature roses of all the colors he's given her, and he slowly leans in for a kiss. 

The vision feels golden and sweet, and Adrien takes a deep breath as he cradles Marinette's hands in his, gently tracing the curves of her ring. "It's fine if you don't feel the same way, you know," he whispers. "It could just be me. But I'm pretty much a hopeless case," he pauses, looking down, "because I don't think I'd want anyone else in the world but you." 

She doesn't speak, and Adrien's hand is shaking, taking it as a cue to slip the ring off her finger. 

"I don't think I'd want anyone else either," she finally manages to breathe out, and his hand freezes over the ring. She peers down to look in his eyes, "It's you and me against the world, remember?" 

He stares at her in disbelief. "You'll have me?" Adrien asks, voice as soft as the petals falling slowly to the floor. 

She nods. "Only if you'll have me." Marinette's lips curl upward at the edges. "Though, it seems I've taken far too long to realize that I’m apparently taken," she laughs. 

Adrien opens his mouth, then closes it, and finally shoots her a cheery grin. "Well, I'm hoping you'll be taken for good." 

"Maybe, maybe," she hums, a teasing smirk on her lips, "But I can't just marry someone I just started dating," she points out. "Got to take it slow." 

He frowns. "Not even your best friend?" 

"Nope." 

"Long-time partner you've faced life and death situations with?" 

"No." 

"Love of your life? Soulmate?" 

She tuts, shaking her head. "No excuses." 

"The person who's going to do the dish-cleaning duty for the rest of our lives?" 

"...Tempting, but no." 

Adrien grumbles. "With the way you're talking right now, I think Alix is going to win the bet." 

Marinette pauses, and then her eyes widen as she remembers, earning Adrien a light slap on the shoulder. "Don't be ridiculous," she warns, though a faint blush gives her away. 

He cheekily mirrors her earlier actions, tutting and shaking his head. "No promises." 

Marinette's eyes fall to their clasped hands, watching their matching rings shine against the sparkling lights. Adrien follows her gaze, and he brings up her hand, pressing his lips to her fingers, just as he has always done since they were fourteen. 

The loud claps from the audience shatter the moment, the mic reverberating in the room as the host finally signals the end of the show. 

"Come on," Adrien says, "Let's get out of here before people start filling in." 

They rush through the crowd, eventually exiting the room and coincidentally bumping into the sales attendant that got them here in the first place. "Congratulations," he chimes, handing them complimentary boxes of cake treats. "I hope you had a great and productive time here. Best wishes for your marriage!" 

Adrien laughs out a thanks while Marinette looks away, still a bit embarrassed that they went here for the free food. But she's too happy to care at this point, and technically, she now has a valid reason to be here. 

"Let's pass by the chocolate fountain again," he suggests. 

Marinette nods. “And the macarons,” she adds, "they were really good, but I don't think you got to savor them," she snickers. 

"And whose fault is that?" he pointedly raises an eyebrow. But after a second he laughs, unable to keep a stern face when it comes to her. Adrien brushes the back of his head. "We probably have to call Wayhem up, though,” he says, grimacing. “How do you think he's going to react if he finds out we got together because of him?" 

Marinette laughs in response, bluebell eyes sparkling in delight. Somewhere in the background, the champagne bottle pops and wine glasses tinkle while the string orchestra plays, and he laughs along too, and she's never heard such a beautiful sound. 

For the rest of the day, she indulges herself in the romance of it all. They take another lap around the fair to visit the stalls they'd missed, a little more enthusiastic than before, now actually entertaining prospective thoughts and dreams tied to a future long yearned for. 

There’s a large crowd all over, people moving in different directions. She sees a mix of joyful and exasperated faces, chatter between vendors and clients, old friends catching up, new friends made. Everyone's moving, yet unlike the rough motion of pebbles jostled in a jar, the crowd instead flows like a string of pearls brushing smoothly past one another, couples staying together with fingers entwined. Beautiful as it all is, Marinette thinks that being here isn’t such a bad idea after all.

**Author's Note:**

> if they keep acting like theyre just very good friends at some point its going to turn out like this
> 
> i promised id write in thanks for hitting a milestone everytime i get 1k hits but the other one was too fast i didnt see it coming haha ~~in other words i played myself~~


End file.
